


Acceptance (from Malcolm Grimm)

by Myriadblvck



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Brain Dump, Fluff, M/M, im depressed and need some fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myriadblvck/pseuds/Myriadblvck
Summary: During their break from uni, Baz convinces Simon to come with him to Hampshire for Christmas.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Kudos: 26





	1. Video games

**PITCH**

I throw myself onto our bed, sighing deep and dramatic, “Simon, darling, come quickly murder me will you?” Simon huffs from his chair, a console controller in his hands. He gets home earlier than me, and has discovered video games thanks to Shepherd. I don’t mind coming home to a shirtless Simon with his headset on, cursing like an American at Shepherd. He leans back onto the bed and turns his head, smiling at me with his gorgeous, shy, bright, heartwarming half-smile.

“Shep says hi,” Simon reaches to my leg and gently rubs the back of my calf, “and if you’re going to be huffy about something do it in a position where I can turn my head and kiss you.” He gives my ankle a soft tug, and I can hear Shepherd yelling. I decide Simon has a fair point, and turn so that way my head is dangling off the foot of the bed and onto his shoulder. “Shep! No!! Not my sheep you fucking asshole!” (Hearing Simon say ‘asshole’ instead of git, or bastard. or arse- slightly puts me off) 

“When you talk to Shepherd you pick up an American accent,” I softly kiss his shoulder and sit up on my elbows to mess with his beautiful golden curls, “I find it quite horrifying.” 

“I find your big words horrifying.” Simon snorts, and I hear Shep giggling on the other end. (Vampire hearing lets me know exactly who Simon is playing his stupid games with) 

“Quit being such an arse and finish with your game, so I can get properly comforted. Which means shagging!” I hiss the last bit into the microphone of Simon’s headset, to which Shepherd replies- in horror- ‘God! it’s having sex! Or doing it! Or f-‘ Simon disconnects from the game before Shepherd can finish. 

“Baz!” Simon stands and tackles me to the bed. His face is flushed pink, and because I’m weak I lean up to kiss him. Simon is kissing me back nearly immediately, so I’m not deeply concerned about how mad he actually is. I hum in content as he leans down so that I’m flat against the bed. Simon lifts one of my legs around his waist and gently traces shapes on my thigh. 

I’m slightly giddy from Simon completely abandoning his game to sweetly kiss me senseless, even if I’m always giddy when he decides to show me any kind of attention. (I purposely put myself in his space when he’s doing something not important so he pulls me to him and cuddles me.) 

To my disliking, Simon pulls away and looks at me fondly. “So, what‘s got you pouting today?” Simon’s wings have stretched out and are relaxed at his sides. I sigh dramatically, and he knows it because he smiles and presses a kiss to my cheek, nose, crown of my head, and forehead. 

“Well,” I start, reaching my hands to his back to gently massage where skin turns to scale; Simon relaxes and lays his head in my chest after pulling me so we’re correctly in bed, “I guess I should start with the exam I took today. It was quite stressful because the bloke next to me wouldn’t stop kicking the desk with his foot, and I could hardly focus on the exam.” I tsk softly which makes Simon hum and press a kiss to my exposed collarbones. (They weren’t exposed before, but he likes to unbutton my shirt and snuggle into my chest. It’s adorable.) 

“and,” I hesitate for a moment. That makes Simon’s wings twitch. 

“and? What’s bothering you, love?” Simon peppers kisses along my cheek and jaw. 

“Father called. He wants...he wants _us_ to come to Hampshire for the holidays.” I gently scratch up and down his spine to soothe his now tensed up body. “Not just me. He specifically asked for you to join me.” I kiss his head and massage where his wings meet his back. “Then, Daphne called and said that she was excited to see me and hoped that you would join.” Simon relaxes at that but stays quiet. 

He sits up and scoots up. “Basil, don’t make that face.” I notice that he’s thinking deeply and being serious due to his ‘Basil’. Simon runs his thumbs across my brows gently. My face relaxes. (I didn’t even know I was frowning and that my eyebrows were pinched together.) “I...I” Simon frowns and huffs. “I messed up...a lot,” I softly kiss the corner of his mouth and he relaxes, “like, a lot. I don’t want to mess this- w-“ He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before talking again. “I don’t want to mess us up. Therapy helped- _is_ helping me heaps..but I just...” Simon trails off again, and I somehow completely understand. 

“I found out that The Mage was my father...that he killed my mum.” Simon speaks softly and rests his head on my chest again. I let him mess with the buttons of my shirt as he thinks. “I took the magic from your house, and then I killed Davy, and- and-“ Simon’s voice is barely audible. I know if I wasn’t a vampire I would have missed it. “Then, after that, I lost my magic.” 

“I love you.” I feel the need to remind him as I place a long kiss on his head. 

“And I love you.” Simon smiles softly at me. 

“You think about it.” I cup his cheek and he hums in content. I admire my gorgeous boyfriend, my heart leaping into my throat when his eyes begin to flutter. (I think he’s listening to my faint heartbeat because he’s subconsciously moved my shirt.) Simon keeps messing with the buttons of my shirt until they’ve all come undone and he can comfortably trace shapes over my bare chest, leave as many kisses as he pleases, and sleepily leave love bites where he chooses. 

I gently stroke his goldenrod hair, scratching the back of his neck how he likes on occasion. I know when Simon is sleeping because his arms wrap tightly around me, he hides his face in my neck, lifts one of his legs up and over my hip, and shoves the other in between my own. I lift the blanket up to his shoulders and rub his back as he naps. 

********  
  


It’s the day before my dad would like for me to arrive in Hampshire, and Simon keeps putting off the conversation with his beautiful mouth and hands and body. (I don’t mind, he could have every disease known to man and spit on me. I wouldn’t have a care in the world.) As of now, Simon has his arms wrapped tight around my middle while he snores. His naked body is pressed flush against mine (again, not that I care) while he sleeps. Simon sleeps soundly more often than he used to. Nightmares about what happened at Watford don’t haunt him anymore. 

His wings twitch gently before relaxing back against him; I can’t help but think he’s having a dream about flying by how much they're twitching this morning. I often massage his wings (because they’re muscle, being folded up on his back all day must hurt him) and tell him about the day that we get our own house that the ceilings will be so high and the rooms will be so large that he can fly around as he pleases. He always responds with a snort, ‘and sixteen vampire babies running around, yeah?’ with a different sort of glint in his eyes. 

Simon tends to sleep in on _the morning after,_ if you get what I’m heavily implying here. He keeps me in his tight grasp, traces the muscles on my body (from football), squeezes me, leaves kisses wherever his lips can touch, and (my favorite part of the after) soft whispers between us about how much love we have and how we still match after the years. Right now, he’s kissing my collarbones lightly in his sleep and even _smiling_. Merlin, I love this beautiful man with everything in my undead body. (Simon says I can’t be dead if my heart is beating, even if it’s faint.) 

I press a long kiss to his head and press my hand into his back while rubbing it, the other gently squeezing his arm, “Love,” I softly call when he only squeezes me tighter, “wakey-wakey.” I know Simon is waking up by the way he shifts and nuzzles into my chest. His wings also give it away by the long stretch he gives them. I don’t think he has it in him not to make the oddest noises while he stretches. The man on top of me slowly rolls, careful with his wing, and lets out a loud screech when he elongates himself in a full-blown stretching session. 

He didn’t do this in the eight years I roomed with him at Watford, so you can imagine the utter horror that was placed upon me when I was brushing my teeth and a screeching Simon rolled around in our bed. I thought the wraiths had followed me to the flat. (They haven’t.) (Yet.) 

“Mmh,” Simon lays on his back and pulls me into his chest before wrapping his wings around me. “We go to Hampshire today?” I don’t realize what he’s asking me, partly because he’s warm and partly because of how _good_ his voice sounds. (My mind must be deep cleaned sooner or later.) “Baz?” Simon stops running his fingers through my hair, it’s past my shoulders now (Simon gets fussy when I mention the hairdressers). I guess it’s been a couple minutes since he’s asked me whatever he did. 

“Why’d you stop? ‘m comfy.” Simon not saying the full word of _anything_ is rubbing off on me. “proceed.” I earn myself forehead kisses while he gently runs his fingers through my hair. 

“We go to Hampshire today? Penny’s left already.” Bunce left the day she finished her classes for the month. I hum in question. “For the hols, Baz.” I lean up to Simon and rest my forehead on his. 

“W- h- now?” I lean back to hit my forehead on Simon’s once, gently. For once I’m without words. I usually have an endless variety of any sort of sentence, but when Simon is involved...

”Not _now,_ ” He brushes my hair out of my eyes with his fingers and then kisses me gently, “Later in the day. I don’t want to get out of bed yet.” Simon smiles when he sees a hint of worry flash behind my eye (worry I fail to hide). “Not like that, sweetheart,” he soothes, “I just want to lay with _you_ a little longer.” I grin and kiss his cheek quickly. 

“I,” kiss, “love,” kiss, “you,” kiss; slightly longer kiss, “with every,” kiss, “atom in,” kiss, “my bloody body.” I stop my assault against his cheek and jaw and hug him tightly, wrapping my arms around his neck. Simon lets his wings relax on my back and strokes my back gently. 

“I love you more than I love scones,” he simply says. 


	2. Fighting Malcolm Grimm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz is a fucking mess, so is Simon, Malcolm is terrifying (as he should be), Baz loses his mind, Simon can’t handle champagne. 
> 
> slight angst warning✨  
> *evil author chuckles*

**PITCH**

Simon is quietly frying rice. I can practically feel the nerves radiating off of him (his pulse is also going at an alarming pace). “Say, Baz...” Simon is putting rice gently into two bowls. He cracks an egg over one gently (He frequently eats this, it’s called Tamago Kake Gohan, I believe. Japanese comfort food he says. I just eat rice and meats that he cooks for me) before continuing, “how do I eat?” I’m _baffled_ for lack of a better word. (What the bloody hell sort of question is that?) 

I can only manage a stupid, “Uhhh? Huh...” When Simon looks up to meet my eyes while he serves me some (bloody) meat on the side of my bowl of rice. He nudges my shoulder gently and hands me a fork. “Sorry, what?” I manage to regain composure. 

“Like, y’ know, in front of your father and Daphne? I don’t have the best manners...” His cheeks and ears flush a bright pink colour as he speaks. “I would like for your dad to see that I’m not- n-“ Simon lowers his voice as if what he says is a secret, “not The Mage’s lapdog.” He’s waiting to eat (I’m only halfway to an aneurism by how much he’s shocking me) and looking at me through the mess of damp curls that rest on his forehead. 

“Y-you eat just fine.” I think I’m having an aneurism- or a heart attack. Can vampires have heart attacks? Or aneurisms? Either way, I’m too distracted by _Simon Snow_ wanting to _learn proper dining manners!_ He used to snort at me and mutter ‘prat, food is food! I’m hungry! Quit your nagging!’ lovingly before eating as if he was being starved (Simon Snow has never eaten slowly) for weeks on end. “Are you...feeling alright?” I manage to croak out. 

“Well,” Snow has the audacity to giggle at my flustered state, “I had a chat with my therapist. She said it would be good for me to make happy memories at your house. I wasn’t really sold on the idea of going to your place, you know? A lot of stuff happened on my first visit there.” He pauses for a minute. “I want to go, and I want to avoid getting stares of a shock this time around.” Simon flushes once again and looks to the fork in his hand. 

“Oh,” I pause for a beat before softly explaining how you fold your napkin over your lap, what fork is for what entree- I stress _elbows_ not belonging on your dinner table (‘How the hell am I supposed to eat?’) Simon had gasped. 

********  
  


Simon is nervously picking at his curls, trying to smooth away frizz. (He’s so worried.) “Love, you look absolutely stunning.” I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my chin on his shoulder. He huffs softly and rests his hands on top of my own, intertwining our fingers and comfortably leaning into me. Simon closes his eyes for a second or two. “You do not need to change the way you look to fit in. You do not need to fit in. I did not fall for a stupidly posh man, now did I? That was all you.” His stupidly adorable grin is back on his face, so I let myself grin stupidly as well. 

Simon has one of my jumpers on (one that I bought specifically for him to steal) and some black jeans that hug his thighs _perfectly._ (You guessed it. I bought that pair for him.) I think Simon should always wear jeans but he nearly always reaches for a pair of trackies instead. I manage to convince him sometimes with a perfectly timed puppy dog eye. (You won’t ever catch me admitting that I beg Simon with my eyes to wear jeans.) 

Anyway, Simon looks gorgeous in my dark grey jumper and a pair of black jeans and- no Simon Snow has not put shoes on yet. I decide to gently chastise him for it, “Snow, don’t you dare go and get frostbite! Put some shoes on.” I can’t help but dig around in his shoe pile. (Yes, shoe pile. He has no respect for my organization.) (You can clearly tell who’s side of the closet is Who’s) “This shoe would look great, but I can’t seem to find the other bloody shoe. I bought a shoe rack for a reason. Imagine how beautiful our closet would look if you simply put your shoes where they go.”

”Baz, darling, angel, love of my life, the apple of my eye,” Simon grips my shoulders, then spins me around so I’m looking down at him. (He’s still three inches below me.) He then moves his hands up the sides of my neck and up to cup both of my cheeks. “I hate to inform you that the matching shoe is right next to your foot.” Simon leans up and kisses me softly before I can even think of either decking him in the face or being the one to kiss him first. (Of course, I would never deck him in the face, but I have a reputation to uphold. Even in my imagination!) I relax into the short kiss and smile. Wide. Like an idiot. 

“I wouldn’t have fussed over it if your shoes were in their rightful place.” Simon only hums at me and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You should- you- put them in their spot.” I lose my words for a second because Simon’s blue eyes are boring into my soul with so much _attention_ and _love_ and Crowley I think I might catch fire by the way he simply looks at me. I often wonder if Simon sees my eyes the way I see his. 

“Are you packed? I wanna stop n’ go shopping before we get to your house... _castle_... _estate._ Whatever the bloody fuck you call it.” (I don’t think you can use bloody and fuck in the same sentence, but it’s Simon Snow.) Simon’s eyes widen; I imagine at the size of the estate. “Even your closets are twice the size of our flat.” He starts digging around in his pockets, frowning, then proceeds to shove his hands into _my_ pockets because, Simon Snow, has wonderful manners. “You haven’t got any gum on you?” he frowns harder. 

“I don’t fancy leaving gum in my pants, Love.” Simon takes most of his hands out of my pockets, hooking his thumbs on the edges. “You know how horrific it is to see a square-shaped blue splotch on jeans? It’s horrific. Absolutely disgusting.” I’m being dramatic now because I want Simon’s full attention on me at all times. 

“Baz, I want gum.” He uses the hold he has on me to sway us back and forth. “We have to go shopping! And Penny went shopping without me, so I wasn’t able to get a present for you!!” Simon huffs at me and bounces slightly. 

“I could think of a good present,” I smile at the blushing boy in front of me. Simon being the brute he slaps my shoulder and shoved me away. “I was thinking about _pastries!_ Get your head out of my gutters, Snow! You sly, _sly bloody_ bastard!” He comes closer to pinch my arm lightly. 

“Bastard,” He says it lovingly. 

“ _Simonnn!!!_ ” I look at the area he pinched me, “You pinched me! Come here! You deserve death!” Simon is already out the door of our room before I can get to him. (I could if I wanted to, but I have fun tormenting him occasionally.) 

“As far as I know,” Simon stands on one side of the couch, “we’re on a truce.” He has a half-smile-half-smirk on his face. I lunge one way, which causes him to stumble to the other side of the couch to have space in between us. (We both know that I could tackle him if I wanted to. I’ve done it plenty times before.) “We can’t be boyfriends if we aren’t on a truce! Baz!” I decide I do want to tackle him, so we both fall to the floor. 

“Bitch,” I pin his hands over his head, smiling at my victory. 

“I never thought you would ever say the B-word...” Simon is squirming under me, acting as if he will be able to break free from my grip. 

“Would you prefer dirty bastard?” I tilt my head to the side, “Or arsehole, bloody numpty-“

”Okay! I get it you’re full of insults! Let me go!” He whines out the last part and kicks his legs like a toddler. I pretend to think about it and shift so both of my hands are holding his own, and I’m straddling his hips. “Hey! No fair! You’re, like, super strong!!” I just lean down to rest my forehead on his while intertwining our fingers. 

I love him. 

I loved him the day the crucible gave him to me. 

Simon’s whining at me to let him go, but I can’t stop staring at this gorgeous boy in front of me. This beautiful grown-up Simon Snow who got better with his words, his wings (His tail long removed since he was nineteen) getting more comfortable. This beautiful man, he’s not been a boy for a long time, is mine to hold. 

My saving grace, if you will. 

His smile shows that he isn’t as annoyed with me as he says he is. The blush that settled on his cheeks tells me that he knows that I’m admiring him. Simon knows me like he would know the lines in his palm, well Simon _wouldn’t_ know the lines in his palm. You get what I’m grabbing at. The idea is there. 

“You can’t just- you-“ Simon huffs softly, losing his words, “You can’t just sit there and stare at me if I can’t do anything.” His voice is soft, and I know exactly what he means. I let go of his hands and hold myself up onto my elbows, and his legs wrap around my waist while his hands fly to my cheeks. “Talk.” 

“I was just thinking about how much I adore you.” I pause for a moment, and to tease him, “Also about how I’m going to explain bruises on your neck to my sisters.” Simon gasps, grabbing his neck with one of his hands. 

“Basil, you didn’t!” I want to kiss him. 

“I definitely,” I move his hand from his neck and leave soft, gentle, kisses trailing up to his forehead. “did not.” He digs his heel into my back as a response. Simon’s face is redder than a tomato, and he’s blustering again. Going off about how I shouldn’t scare him like that. 

I kiss him to shut him up

********  
  


I think that I should have fed Simon before we got to Hampshire. 

No, let me rephrase that. I _definitely_ should have fed Simon before we arrived. The gorgeous, wide-blue-eyed nightmare is restlessly twitching in his seat, “Almost?” 

“ _Snow_ , for the love of _god_ if you don’t quit moving you will never see a scone again.” I pause my movements, hands in his hair because he doesn’t know how to take care of his own hair. (Or he does and just likes me doing it.) 

“Hey! You don’t have the authority to tell me what to do when you aren't home!” He smiles childishly, which falters when he meets my stare in the mirror. 

“Darling, that was a death threat.” Simon’s eyes get blown wider than they have in the last thirty minutes; his movements still. (I win.) “Good boy.” I pat his cheek, to which he wrinkles his nose and sticks out his tongue. 

I gently rake my fingers through his hair, sectioning the curls. I slowly twirl my finger around strands of hair to get them coated in the gel that I had smeared onto Simon’s head. “Almost.” I sense his restlessness and softly kiss his temple. Then, the temple on the other side. “Alright.” I dry my hands off, and Simon shakes his head back and forth quickly with his stupid grin. 

“Thank you, Bazzy!” I fake (partially real) sneer at him before flicking his nose. He yelps as if I hurt him. 

“I told you to never call me that!”

”In b-“ Simon gets cut off by my phone ringing on the counter. I assume it’s Bunce by the way he grins and answers with a loud, “Penny!!” 

...

”No. It’s flat, sorry.” He giggles slightly and taps his spine and lays face-down on my bed. I place my hands between his shoulder blades, _pop._

_..._

_”_ That was my back. Baz is just’ cracking it for me.” I hear her yelling something about ‘air’ and ‘water’ and ‘bodily fluids’. I’m only mildly concerned. He rests the phone on the bed and taps the speaker button. “You’re on speakerphone!” I move my hands higher and lean down swiftly, _pop-pop._

“Basil! You bastard! You let Simon’s phone die? You’re going to break his bloody back! Is it even supposed to pop that loud?!” I sigh deeply before gently scratching the back of Simon’s neck. I reach to his left-wing first, gently popping stiff joints and massaging tensed muscles. (I read about it; He’s got all this back pain because his wings are folded onto his back all day.) 

“He’s got his wings spelt shut, Bunce. What would you expect? Snow,” I murmur, “in.” Simon breathes in deep, stretching his wings while I pop his back. “How about this one?” Penny is having a conversation with him about how her siblings are completely mad. Simon nods at me, closing his eyes in content. 

I only hear parts of the conversation because I’m more focused on how beautiful Simon’s shoulders and arms are. I would fancy snogging him senseless as of now. When I finish working out week-old knots in his back, shoulders, wings, and neck I throw my leg over his hips and lay on his back. His hand reaches back to grab mine, drawing shapes on the back. I open my eyes when he spells out my name. 

His eyes are bright, shining with adoration. “I love you,” Simon says it like it’s a secret, and if anybody else knew it would get taken. Like, if somebody heard him say it we wouldn’t have it anymore. It’s always been like that. A secret phrase he barely even tells Bunce. His eyes always get a flash of panic and fear before he hears me responding.

One thing that I have learned about this nightmare-boy is that he doesn’t speak any ‘love languages’. When he was eating with Bunce at Watford, and I would stare, he would always be attached to her hip. Now, with me, he rests his hand on my back, links our pinkies, links our arms, pretends to doze off in my chest, he even plays bloody footsie with me when Penelope doesn’t let us sit in the same seat. It’s only a couple minutes of peace before he’s ‘accidentally’ knocking his feet into my feet, grinning mischievously when I kick him back with a deadpan look. That only makes him put one of his feet on my thigh. 

“I love you,” I whisper a not-so-secret dark secret into the back of his neck with a chaste kiss. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I never had a talk with him about us. It’s a worry I try not to think about often, “You know that? Always and forevermore.” I worry that one day I’ll walk into the flat- our _house_ god- with a toddler with a mop of dark curls on their head just to see him with his eyes locked with the screen of the television on the couch with something a lot stronger than cider could ever be hanging off his fingertips. 

“What did I say?” I realize he’s holding me to his chest, stroking the space in the middle of my forehead and eyebrows. “You do it so often that you’ll get wrinkles! You’ll go against the vampire codes of looking old!” I close my eyes and inhale deeply. 

_Simon, we talked about this! You can’t just hide when you feel like the world is against you!_

_You don’t get it Baz! You never have!_

_It doesn’t fucking matter if I get it, Simon! Nor does it matter what your bloody hero complex is making you feel! You aren’t fucking saving me when you sit on the goddamn couch all the time unless you’re getting up to piss or take a shower!_

_But-_

_No! It’s either me, us, this whole fucking life we had together, or the couch and the cider. I bet even Bunce would agree with me._   
  


“Hey, hey, eyes up here.” I shake my head quickly when I feel my throat burning. “Merlin, sweetheart. It’s alright. I’ve got you. Get out of that head and come back to me.” I press my head into his neck when my shoulders start to shake and uncontrollable crying ensues. Simon sat up straight and pulled me into his lap, wrapping his wings around me and stroking my head. “‘S alright. I gotcha.” he rubs up and down my back with his other hand, whispering soft nonsense to me while he rubs circles into my back. 

“I-I,” my breath catches in my constricted throat while I hold back an undignified sob. “I can’t lose you! I love you! You know it, yeah?” I let the walls I have around me crumble because Simon’s here with his wings curled around me to hide us from the world. “I just- I was so scared.” 

“I know. I know you were, and I’m sorry for not letting you in.” He gently leans back, unsure. I let him grab my face gently and wipe at my cheeks. “I’m okay now.” I squeeze my eyes shut, tight. “Baby, look at me. Open your eyes, Love.” Simon keeps slowly caressing my cheeks while I breathe deeply, calming myself. When I open my eyes I realize that the sun has gotten a tad lower, and the fireplace isn’t lit anymore. I survey the room swiftly, clinging to Snow for dear life. 

“You can’t fucking bail on me! We’re having sixteen- no _twenty_ rancid vampire children! You can’t back out! No backsies!” I start to sob again, “They’re going to be so bloody beautiful and smart! And full of magic!” I look Simon dead in the eyes as I sob out this fantasy we have going on. Usually only talked about during the _after_ part. Where he’s holding me so tight and tracing over marks in my skin and whispering that he loves me endlessly. (Then saying how inappropriately he wants to impregnate me so we can make a secret love child.) (What the bloody hell is a ‘secret love child’??) (He’s a weird man.) 

“I won’t! Super swear!!” Simon’s eyes are blown wide with concern. I kiss him because he’s so warm and lovely and he loves me so much and I love him the exact same; we _match._ He’s obviously surprised by the soft gasp he makes before holding onto my face gently and kissing me deeper. 

I decided to beg the universe to set me on fire while kissing Simon Snow goodbye on his deathbed when the time comes. He’s a clumsy bloke, but he always kisses me gently (mostly). He always wants me to be alright. “Baz?” His eyes are boring into my soul now. (maybe he’s picking at my thoughts) Simon rests his forehead on mine and tucks spare strands of hair behind my ears. 

“What, Snow?” I try to sneer at him because I’m blushing furiously from having a large amount of blood in me. I want to smile, and then break his nose, and then kiss it better. Or kiss him. (I’m always confused about if I want to hit him or not.) I settle with pinching his arms. 

“Hey! I’m trying to comfort you! You nearly went mad just then!” I grunt and pinch him again, “Baz, _quit it.”_ If he had the magic in him he definitely could have spelt me still. I gently exhale, sniffing softly. 

“I’m just worried, is all.” _Talk it out. No spiralling._

“ ‘bout me?” His eyes are bright with his emotions. A wall he broke down long ago. Simon’s wings have always been a window to his emotions, his tail too. (He hasn’t got the thing anymore, thankfully.) I fiddle with half-wet curls that lay across his forehead while nodding. 

“Sometimes I think about, like...like..” I shake my head, “What if it was me?” I wipe my nose on the back of my hand. (A habit stole from Snow himself.) “What would you do if it had been me on that couch?” He knows it isn’t a question meant to be answered, so he lets me pause to think. “Then there are other times where I have these stupid fucking dreams, Love. Where I walk into this house with a bloody _child_ on my hip, and you’re there on the couch with this large bottle of liquor barely even in your hand.” I caress the back of his neck softly and stare up at him. “Then the child jumps off my hip, and for whatever reason stars going, _mama!! why are you staring at the telly like that? daddy bought us scones!_ and it’s the scariest thing. You didn’t even flinch.” This time when I exhale it’s shaky, and I let it be. I let Simon see my eyes. 

“It makes me wake up at night to see if you’re asleep next to me,” I whisper and lay in Simon’s chest. He rubs up and down my back. He’s so warm and his wings are keeping the warmth that he’s providing around me. “Sometimes I even hear the telly on even if it isn’t.” 

Simon kisses my head, smoothing my hair off my forehead. “You’d be mum.” I can feel his hesitant smile on my forehead. I snort softly and wrap my arms around his waist. “...’m not the best at- at- ah, I dunno. Dunno how to comfort you....’s hard for me to find the words.” I can tell he’s not done, so I trace small hearts onto his lower back to calm him. (His pulse is erratic.) “I’m just trying to lighten the mood.” My fingertips still as he kisses my head again, again, again, and again. 

Eventually, Snow nuzzles his head into my neck while we sit in silence. He’s murmuring that I smell nice (an odd man) and that he wants to use my shampoo because I smell so nice. “I think you need a nap, love.” He only huffs a response and pulls up his shirt slightly. 

I just press myself against him to cool him down. “Can I open the window?” _Of course, he wants to open the bloody window. In the middle of fucking winter._ I gasp at him and hit his arm.

”You can last a bit longer! I’m freezing.” Simon sighs deeply and looks over my face for any dramatics. The idiot blushes and tilts his head a bit, reaching out and gingerly pushing my hair back. “And what are you finding so amusing?” I’m hiding from the cold in the duvet, leeching off Simon’s warmth. (Can’t believe his last name is _Snow_ ) 

The numpty just shrugs and smiles, “I’m shitting myself.” He shrugs again.

”I sure hope you aren’t,” I shove his shoulder gently (affectionately), “I would think The Chosen One would know how to use the toilet?” Simon fake scowls (to his best abilities) and flicks my hand. 

“I’m not The Chosen One.” He crosses his arms like a child being refused candy (scones) and turns his chin away from me. 

I gently grab onto his chin and make him look towards me, “You’re my Chosen One, bumbling idiot.” 

********  
  


I think Snow is on the edge of setting himself on fire. He’s eating the slowest I’ve ever seen him eat, rubbing his foot on my calf, pinching himself occasionally, and avoiding my father’s judging stare. I wonder if he's nervous because of who my family assumes he is, or if because he knows my father isn't the most _open-minded_ person. Simon prods my calf with the tip of his shoe, looking down at his meal (he's actually looking at me through his eyelashes). I slowly take a sip of my champagne while looking at him. _"Baz, why is he looking at me like that,"_ is what Snow's eyes are telling me. He stops poking me with his foot for a moment to see my response. I tilt my head to the side and raise one eyebrow with a subtle shrug. _"He's convinced that you're the evil one,"_ is what I say in my head to him while he reads my eyes. Simon just squints his eyes. 

"Basil, are you doing telepathy with The Chosen One?" My sister is just about the biggest brat, and I want to strangle her. Simon tenses at the mention of his 'duty' bullshit. 

"He's got a name." I slowly move my eyes from Simon to my sister, glaring at her harshly. She's older now, she understands the way I give my affection, "I don't know what telepathy is." I lie. 

"Baz? Aren't you a..." Simon stops and looks around. everybody knows what he was about to say.

"That's a myth you numpty." I kick him under the table, and he grunts at me. He kicks me back, then I kick him back. It goes on until Daphne kicks me and raises her eyebrow. Simon is giggling so softly that maybe only I can hear it. Nobody bats an eye at him while he covers his mouth with a napkin and chews slowly to try hiding his giggle fit. I can't help but give him a dopey grin. He reaches his foot out again and sets it on my knee. _"You got in trouble,"_ I can already imagine the teasing that's going to happen when he gets the chance. Maybe I am doing telepathy with Snow. He's an idiot. I want to hit him. 

I love him so much. 

My chest squeezes softly at the thought of Simon. I raise both of my eyebrows at him and gently knock my foot against his. He's furiously blushing, and it's the cutest thing ever. (I might catch on fire.) (Or just turn into ashes.) "You started it." I mumble towards the giggling boy in front of me. Simon seems to be out of it for whatever reason. He inhales deeply, then exhales while closing his eyes. 

"I wanted to sit next to you, is all." I would've been blushing hard if Simon and I sat next to each other. He would lean on me while we talked about our college life with Daphne, and link our pinkies when he wasn't cutting into something with his knife. He would probably even put his hand on my knee or thigh to distract himself from my father's harsh stare. (It's harsh to Simon, he's looked at me worse.) Maybe he would just lean on my shoulder and hold my palm towards the ceiling and trace the lines slowly like he does when Bunce and I are having an academic argument. Still, I wouldn't fancy bursting into flames because of how much I adore Simon. 

"You aren't allowed to sit next to me ever since that one time at that one restaurant with that one glass of water." I keep my eyes on his. He flushes red and stutters at me. I look away for a moment to swirl my champagne in my glass before taking another slow sip, Simon blusters about it only being one time at one restaurant. 

"Doesn't matter, Snow. You are still not allowed to sit next to me when drinks are present." Simon huffs and pulls his lips into a pout. _If he bloody says that I called him Simon before I will down this whole glass of champagne and jump out a window._

"Baz! You called me Simon before!" He pouts harder at me. 

"You- I- You are absolutely mad, Snow. I have never done such a- I have never. You're right mad." I sneer at him. Then, I finish my glass of champagne in one gulp. Then, I grab Simon's glass and gulp his down too. (He's only got a third of the glass left, but I steal it anyway. "Cannot believe I am in a serious relationship with a madman- why are you looking at me like that? You're such a wanker." I squint my eyes at Simon because he's grinning like an idiot for no bloody reason. (Or the champagne is affecting my brain.) 

" _Basilton_ ," Father warns, "do not use such vulgar language at the dinner table. Especially towards your boyfriend.." he pauses for a moment and gets up to pop a bottle of red wine, " _Fiance,"_ he corrects himself. I instantly shove my hand under my thigh and look to the blushing Simon. We both share a silent, _'nobody noticed the rings'_ with our eyes. Simon and I keep our shy eyes locked. I eventually force myself to look away when my father reaches out and pours wine into the empty wine glasses in front of Simon and me. 

_Good God, Merlin and Morgana, Jesus Christ himself._ Simon is already feeling the champagne, and I'm not finding the idea of caring for a drunk Simon who's either whining for a kiss, whining for a scone, whining about wanting to cuddle with me and refusing to sleep pleasing or exciting. (I secretly don't mind him being all over me, but we never speak of this.) "We are not... _engaged_ ," I look to Simon who's twisting the simple silver band around his finger in intervals of four, "It's simply a ring that will make sure we keep our promises." Simon pauses at the fourth spin on his ring and grins. _I love this man so fucking much, it hurts._ "As two young adults in university, we do not have the money to be spending on expensive things. Right, Simon?" He scoffs at me and crosses his arms over his chest. 

"You're- what's that word you say?" He scrunches up his nose at me, "You're insufferable! Yeah, that's the word. And it was one time. I wanted to buy you a watch, and I wanted to buy you a watch to match that one suit, _and_ I wanted to get you a pretty watch." Simon's grin turns sickeningly fond, and I have to do everything in my power to not reach across the table and kiss his cheek. I fiddle with the wine glass while Simon tells me endless _'I love you'_ s with his eyes, his foot gently tapping mine, his nervous fiddling pausing. 

"Anyway, we are not engaged, Father." I clench and unclench my jaw to let my face fall back into a calm expression while taking a sip of the wine. "Not yet, anyway." 

Dinner comes and goes, then dessert comes and goes, and then Simon Snow is snuggling me on the couch while Daphne picks out a horrible Christmas film to watch. "Mr Snow." My father has calmed down with the harsh glares. I even saw him smile softly at us when Simon was beginning to realize that he was feeling a buzz and hid in my chest. Simon looked up from his tea at my father, fear in his eyes. I softly shushed him, scratching the space between his wings. "May I steal you away from Basil for a moment for a private conversation?" Simon takes a slow sip of his tea before handing it to me. He nods before turning to me for permission of some sort. 

"Don't take long, Love," I pleaded to him before placing a soft kiss to his jaw, "I would prefer to leech off your warmth all night long." Simon flushes at the pet name I never let slip around others. He looks down to my mouth for a second before looking back up to my eyes. I gently cup his jaw and peck his lips before he stands up, faltering a bit, and slowly following after my father. As I watch the mop of golden hair disappear from my view, nerves settle in the pit of my stomach. I slide off my shoes, sitting on my feet to keep them warm. I exhale slowly and trace the edge of the cup, focusing on the way it smells. _Earl Grey, vaguely Simon. Sugar and milk._ I shut my eyes and sort of huddle around the tea to absorb some of its warmth. _Vaguely Simon._ I latch onto the vague smell that is Simon Snow to ground my nerves. 

I _know_ bloody well that Simon is on the edge of tipsy (which is why I shoved some tea into his hands and swallowed his wine in one gulp) and even after slowly drinking about a quarter of the tea his mind was clearly hazy with alcohol. I'm only slightly worried that Simon will go off into a 'Baz Rampage' as Bunce calls it. I wonder if my father would find it amusing if all Simon was able to talk about was me and loving me, and wanting to keep me warm. (Penny says that when I go to Fiona's for a couple of hours on New Years Simon starts bawling because he cannot find me, and then hiding in our room until I return.) I breathe in deeply, watching Daphne cast a flame at the fireplace. I can smell the pine from the tree and the burning of the wood. _Vaguely Simon. Cinnamon and something unrecognizable. Smoke._ "Basil, are you feeling alright?" Daphne sat where Simon once did. 

I tilt my head to the side and sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliffhanger because im a fucking menace to society *throws glitter*


	3. Bad Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcom angers simon, simon defends baz, dev and niall come over, Mordelia makes her presence known (duh), SImon is a god at drinking games, Baz speaks cursive. Thats it. Thats the filler before the xmas chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baz speaks Arabic, here are the translations.   
> "And your Arabic?"   
> "Perfect."

**SNOW**

I feel like I shouldn’t have come here. I’m looking down at my phone while Baz’s dad slowly pours tea for the two of us. 

_**From: bazzy baz** _

Colour, love? 

_**To: bazzy baz** _

yello green:p 

_**From bazzy baz:** _

Darling, yellow-green is not on the chart. 

**_To: bazzy baz_ **

ur so weird :(( !!! it's in the middle of green n yeelloooowwww 

**_To: bazzy baz_ **

yellooooowwww 

**_To: bazzy baz_ **

xoxoxoxoxoxo I <333 yh baz <3 I promise yellow ;D 

**_From: bazzy baz_ **

Text me if it turns orange or red. 

**_From: bazzy baz_ **

Your tea is bitter. 

I clear my throat and fiddle with the hem of my jumper (Baz’s jumper) after Mr Grimm places the teacup on a saucer in front of me. I gently grab it and take a short sip. The hotness of the tea takes away the dizziness and the shakes for a moment. I hope he isn’t going to tell me to leave Baz and never come back here again. I didn’t even want to come here in the first place. 

Baz makes it easy to forget. Baz makes me feel safe. Baz says it wasn’t my fault. 

Baz is bloody smart, so he’s got to be right. (Baz is only wrong when he scolds me for opening my window- calling it our window.) 

“S-sir,” I swallow the lump that formed in my throat, “I-I didn’t mean to do all of- of- well- I-“ my words are gone again. I place the tea back on the table and dig my nails into my palms. 

“Son, I didn’t scare you, did I?” Mr Grimm seems genuinely concerned with how I feel. “I didn’t bring you here to criminalize you. I simply want to talk about your relationship with Basilton.” He tries to smile warmly at me, but it only reminds me of fake smiles that used to be shoved my way. 

I nod slowly and let him talk. I couldn’t talk if I wanted to. I shift in my chair and not so secretly pull the sleeve of my jumper further off my arm slightly to shove my nose in it. It smells like the cedar and bergamot that remind me of my home (Baz). I inhale slowly, deeply. I don't want Baz's dad to realize that I'm snorting this bloody jumper. It's an expensive jumper too. I feel so overdressed for a casual dinner. I keep listening to Mr Grimm. "I realize that you understand what my family's relationship was with The Mage. I also realize that you weren't aware of The Mage's intentions before Christmas week." He offers me sugar and milk. I shake my head. "I also love my son. It has been hard to deal with him for the past decade-" 

"If you loved him then us being together, and him being who he is wouldn't bother you." I blurt softly. "We didn't choose to feel like this. Baz doesn't deserve any of it. If I could change the deck of cards handed to him I would. He doesn't deserve to constantly feel like he's disappointing his mum because you don't accept the fact that he is who he is. Even that he is _what_ he is. Baz is just a boy that misses his mum. He's scared to lose everything," I can't help but jut out my chin and pull my legs to my chest, "not again." I shut my eyes tightly. 

_Yellow._

"I ain't the brightest colour in the bunch, but even I know that. It hasn't been hard to deal with him. You just ignore it. Ignore _us,_ and _me,_ and make him uncomfortable by suggesting that he should keep trying to find a _suitable_ partner. You ignore your own son, sir." I pick at the nails on my left hand slowly. _Rip, push, scratch, bleed. Rip, push, scratch, bleed._ "I sort of regret drinking that wine and that champagne. I used to wish that I had magic and a good family. I used to think that maybe you would happily invite me over if I admitted to plotting against The Mage, and found a perfect family, and became the perfect magician. I don't need or want your _**acceptance,**_ nor should Basil." I slowly stand from my seat. "I want to go back to Baz now because I'm getting quite antsy. I apologize for my outburst, but I can't stand it anymore, sir. I can't stand the fact that you're bloody disappointed in your only son just because of who he chose- of who he ended up loving. I know I'm not good enough." I start clicking on the watch while my chest tightens. It buzzes in Baz's pocket when I need him. 

"Simon," Malcolm Grimm sounds sad, "take care of my boy. Mend the scars that I cannot." 

The door opens, and Baz swiftly walks into the room to pull me towards him. "Colour?" he murmurs while cupping my face. 

"Green." _I'm safe. Baz is safe._

"Good. You're okay." Baz's hands are cold against my warm cheeks. He's always cold. "You want some tea? Are you tired, Love?" I don't remember coming out of the office, but it's alright because Baz is here. Baz is here, and he's holding me like I'm glass, and I want to hide away inside of his arms for the rest of my bloody life. "We only got past the beginning credits of the film. It wasn't too good. I would fancy hiding in my room with you over watching that godforsaken thing anyway." Baz pushes some stray curls off my forehead and gently traces a pattern on my cheek with his thumb. "We can watch that space movie you love so much." I scoff at him and place both of my hands on top of his chest. His eyebrows scrunch in the beautiful way it does when I do something he doesn't quite understand. 

"Baz, it's called Star wars." I poke the centre of his chest, " _and_ there are loads of movies! Not just one! We can also watch Harry Potter and make fun of their magic." Baz smiles softly at the last bit and runs his thumbs over my cheeks. I look both ways in the hall, place my hands on his wrists to pull him away, step back and look again, and then giddily get closer to him again. (Yes, I am giddy because nobody is around." 

"Maybe we should get you to bed, Love." Baz is concerned, _like clearly concerned,_ about how giddy I am. I step up onto my tippy toes, kissing his nose and cheeks repeatedly. Baz smiles wide, sniggering softly and trying to duck his head. "Simon! Simon! st-hey!" He shouts softly when I bite his nose (because I'm crazy and I felt like it) gently. "You idiot. Why in the bloody hell would you bite my nose?" He holds me back by my cheeks (I could escape if I wanted to). 

"It was a soft bite! And you _like it."_ I tease and poke his cheeks. 

"Snow, I am disturbed, but not that disturbed," he deadpans. I hum in thought before tugging on his wrists slowly. "What?" I just grunt and keep pulling him like the savage that I am. (Yes, I am aware that I am a savage with my caveman grunt-talk habits.) "You really need to learn to use your words. It's slowly becoming rare that the love of my life wants to have a genuine conversation with me! What a depressing life I live!" Baz dramatically places his hand over where his heart is. ( The hand that I'm not using to drag him, _obviously)_ I know that if he really wasn't happy with me acting like an illiterate beast at times he would just yell at me to use my words or ignore me. (Like he does when I say his full name.) Instead of continuing to drag him I just yank him hard enough so he's at my side. 

"We are going to go hide in your room with your violin and you are going to practice while looking pretty." I proudly wrap my arm around Baz's waist when he places his elbow on my shoulder in an attempt to show his (fake) unhappiness with me yanking him around. He looks at me with a glint in his eye that says 'What in the bloody hell is wrong with this insane man I fell in love with. What is wrong with me?' "Okay! You don't have to! Crowley, don't look at me like you're thinking about offing the both of us in one go." I jut out my chin like an old habit. 

"Well," Baz smiles at me, "I am only mildly offended that you think that I can only sit and look pretty while playing my violin." _Good God, I have created a monster._ "I _always_ look pretty, Simon. Even in the Watford uniform, you couldn't keep your eyes off of me." I pinch the bridge of my nose. I often wonder why I confided in him that I realized I didn't stare at him at Watford because I was afraid of his plotting, it was because I thought he always looked so bloody fit. I turn my head and bite his arm, because _fuck baz,_ that's why. "Simon!" 

" _Simon!_ " I gasp to mock him and jump away from him. "You're a bloody idiot Baz. I'm never going to tell you that I think you're hot ever again!" I start grumbling about how much of an idiot he is while giving him the finger. _Stupid Basil and his stupid bloody face with his stupid soft hair. Stupid Baz. What's another insult? Dumb Baz. Yeah, perfect._

"No! I'm cold!!" Baz runs up to my side and pulls me into him, stumbling back into a wall. "I'm sorry for embarrassing you, truly." He wraps his arms around my waist and squeezes me gently. I wrap my arms around his neck and squint my eyes. 

" _and?_ " I press. 

"And? There's more? See, this is why we have to go to therapy, Simon. You and your bad memory," he smiles and brings me closer to him. I squint my eyes. 

"We? _We?_ Baz, the last time you went to therapy is when we were fighting about who should get what side of the bed and why. That was like," I turn so my back is to his chest and count on my fingers. _Okay, I slept on the couch until I was like nineteen, so two years in. Then, we slept in the same bed for two years. Then I kicked him out of the bed for two months because he was being a brat about the window. Then it was fine. Then, Stupid Baz thought that the left side of the bed belonged to him.,_ "Five bloody years! I have been consistent with therapy, unlike some people." I Iean back onto his shoulder and look up at the side of his face. He's got a wide smile on his face (because it took me a while to do the maths) and his hair is falling into his eyes. _He is really pretty._ "In conclusion, I'm right, you're wrong. The left side of the bed is mine, and I want to watch Star Wars and drink hot chocolate with scones. And butter. I need butter too." I try to pull away from Baz, but he swiftly locks his fingers together. 

"I'm still cold." He turns his head to the side a bit before pulling me closer to him again if it's possible. My heart starts to beat faster when he smiles endearingly at me. I flush slightly when he presses me into him and nuzzles his nose into my hair. 

"T-the hot chocolate will warm you up?" It comes out as a question, not a statement. "And the scones will too," Baz grunts at me (and he calls me a caveman in modern time) and shakes his head. "Baz! You cannot starve me!" I shout when he starts tightening his grip on me and lifting me over his shoulder. 

"Vera can bring you scones and hot chocolate. I want to lay down under several different blankets." Baz wraps his arms tightly around my lower waist while I kick and squirm. (He won’t let me fall, so I can fuss as much as I please.) I decided to pinch his back repeatedly, which only makes Baz lift me bridal style instead and hold my hands in place. Bastard. 

I huff to express my ‘irritation’ (me being flustered) at Baz and tear my hands free to cross my arms. He manages to keep me in place on the (longer than it should’ve been) walk to his room before throwing me onto his couch like a brute. That _really_ should not have been endearing. 

Baz, completely unconcerned with my hissy fit, starts gathering blankets onto a pile on the floor in front of his laptop. (I tease him about secretly being an omega werewolf that needs to nest. He responds by showing me the many fangs in his mouth and letting out an eerie hiss.) I grab a pillow off the couch to throw at his head. “Nesting again, love?” I decide against throwing the pillow at his face and settle for helping him with the mess of black blankets and throw pillows arranged in front of the fireplace. Baz picks up the pillow closest to him and launches it in my direction. 

“Maybe vampires nest, Simon!” I can hear him blushing (since he rarely blushes with his skin I have learned to detect it with my ears instead) under the aggressive tone. I can’t help the stupid grin that crosses over my face when he stretches and pulls a hair tie from his back pocket. I pretend like I’m adjusting the mountain of blankets while I watch him slowly pull his hair into a low bun on the back of his head. 

I let myself smile like a complete idiot at the man in front of me. He runs his fingers through his silky black hair and slightly tilts his head back to catch the stragglers. "You'd look pre' fit with a braid, Baz." Baz turns to me and squints his cloudy eyes. "Okay! Okay!" My hands are up in defence, "Working on your nest, got it." Baz makes a noise between a grumble and an annoyed growl. I fiddle with his laptop, searching for _Star Wars_. After locating the several downloaded (illegally) movies. “I’m going to go get snacks and cocoa. Want anything?” I forget about Malcolm Grimm asking me to heal his son for a moment. 

Baz thinks for a second, “Rosé, please.”

I gasp at him in faux-shock. “ _Rosé?!_ You alcoholic!!” Baz gives me a look of exasperation. 

“Sweetheart, we buy _blood_ from _butchers_ and you’re concerned about me wanting a glass of wine?” Baz is intoxicated, I know, but he isn’t exactly drunk yet. It is incredibly amusing how much alcohol vampires can take before actually getting drunk (maybe it’s just Baz.) I can’t help the bloody stupid grin that splits my face in half. 

When exactly did I fall so hard for this man?

”I’ll ask Vera to bring it up. You’ve been tugging at your clothes for thirty minutes now, Simon.” Baz presses a soft kiss to my hair, and I blush violently. 

“It’s hot!!” I whine and cross my arms at Baz, grumbling softly. Baz just hums in recognition and separates a curl on my head gently before smiling slyly and kissing my cheek and running off. 

In other words, I am left alone incredibly embarrassed for twenty minutes. 

********  
  


**PITCH**

“But what if I don’t _want_ them to come over?” I snort at the way Simon flutters his wings against my hand in his sleep and gently pet his hair, “They’re complete fools.” I mutter, looking up at Daphne. 

“Basil, Naill loves you. They want to see you over the holidays! I wouldn’t mind seeing my family, either!” Daphne places the platter of scones (sour cherry) on the nightstand and crosses her arms. “They will be here later. You can still hide away with Simon for a while.” Her tone changes from firm to loving in the last two sentences. 

“Alright then, _Dev_ is an idiot.” I gently fold Simon’s wings with my hands and murmur the spell that keeps them hidden away. “He doesn’t really get the whole me and Simon thing.” I turn my gaze to Simon’s sleeping form and scratch softly down his bareback.

Daphne chides me for calling Dev an idiot before leaving my room. “Hey, Simon,” I keep gently scratching along his shoulder blades and squeeze him with the arm around his waist. “Maybe if I say there’s a fire you’ll wake up” I murmur to myself and hide my face in his neck. 

Simon hums softly in his sleep and wraps his legs around my waist tightly (like the clingy-monkey he is). 

I sigh deeply when- _hello I have an idea-_ and grab a scone, biting half of it off and holding it in front of Simon's nose; waiting. The goblin snores and stirs (bloody idiot) before humming and opening his mouth, "Bitch, this is mine wake up." I flick his nose softly and scowl. Simon opens one eye and squints it at me. 

"I just want a bite, Baz. Feelin' feisty today, are we?" Simon stretches and tilts his hips to pop his back. "Don't bite me! Oi!" Simon swats at my jaw when I gently bite his shoulder. I snort softly and swat him back. "Ya' wanna go, Basil?" Simon teases me and juts out his chin and holds up his hands in a semi-proper karate chop fashion. 

"No, I would not enjoy that." I drawl, offering Simon my scone. The fucker eats the rest of it in one bite and stretches hard while rolling around in the bed. I flick his ear and burrito myself up in the blankets and cast a **_You're getting warmer_** on the tea and scones. Simon makes a sound like a dying animal (Something he's been doing recently because it 'makes his stretch more stretchy') and rolls back over to me and forces the blankets around himself so he can join my burrito. "Simon, you're a numpty." 

"Thanks, Baz. I love you too." Simon snickers and I grunt, hiding in his neck and curling up around him. Simon doesn't rise with the sun anymore, he still wakes up fairly early, usually before me. Simon rakes a hand through my hair to gently work out all the tangles. I hum softly and drift off into the asleep-but-aware state. Simon keeps running his hands through my hair slowly. He starts to hum the music of an off-key Katy Perry song of some sort. (It's depressing that it's a quality that I find incredibly endearing.) 

“Oi,” I yell, Simon’s ways of speaking rubbing off on me, “what do you think you’re doing? Letting all the bloody hot air out making me freeze to death.” I stare at him through the glass of the shower as he opens the bathroom door. He takes his sweet time closing the door and grins cheekily. "Simon!" He hums a response and sits on the counter, scrolling through a timeline of some sort on his phone. 

"Yeah?" Simon kicked his legs a bit and leaned against the mirror, "D'you reckon your mum will make more scones?" Simon had been hiding away with me in my room for the whole time that we've been here, a steady income of scones and meals without my father keeping him at bay. "I'm sort of in the mood for some." I snort softly, coughing out the small amount of water that I inhaled, and lean my head back so the water washes over my face. "What?"

"Nothing, Love." 

"Bloody hell! I have must'a done something funny for you to snort like us peasants." 

"Simon," I drawl, "in the whole time that I have known you, you are _always_ in the mood for scones. Aleister Crowley, Simon, if you could get all the nutrients you needed from those sour cherry scones you wouldn't even breathe around other foods." Simon scoffs softly in a mock-offence. 

"I didn't know today was attacking Simon Snow day, by Gods." Simon dramatically grasps his chest and leans back further. "Not even my own boyfriend can keep himself from attacking my addiction to scones. I'm getting help, I swear!" Simon has a smile brighter than the sun on his face. He grins and giggles and sticks out his tongue at me. 

"It's my love language." Simon grins at me and rolls his shoulders back slowly. 

"I think that your dad loves you but doesn't know how to accept it." 

I run my fingers through my hair slowly to wash out shampoo and tilt my head. "Accept what?" I ask softly. Simon seems to have been thinking about something that I know is on his 'do-not-think' list, and I don't have the heart to turn down his need to share the thoughts with me. The way he shrugs with one shoulder, but also his body, makes me inhale slowly. _Deep thinking you're doing, huh Snow?_

"Uh," he starts and turns off his phone and puts it in his lap, " _This._ I guess." Simon points between him and me. "The whole, _'Here's the boy you conditioned me to hate, BTW we're in love and dating and have promise rings. Don't forget the fact that we live together because neither of us can stand how nasty you are to us.'_ Type thing." Simon shrugs (if he moves his bloody shoulders in anything that resembles a shrug, I will make it my life's purpose to rip them off) (no, I won't) and squints and juts his chin out. "He told me to heal you. To mend the scars he formed or some shit like that. I think that he doesn't know how to accept something that he knew he never wanted. Everybody bloody knows that I'm _actually_ the heir of the mage, that he killed me mum, 'n' that I killed him." Simon isn't speaking sadly, or angrily. Simon is thinking about his thoughts and setting them on the table for me to look at. 

"Well, sweetheart, you didn't _kill-_ "

"Nah, let me finish. I know I didn't _murder_ the dude. It's not like I care much anyway. The therapy I've had has told me that he was a shit excuse for a father. He didn't want me for anything but my power. He gave me up when he thought I was Normal." Simon chews on his thumbnail. "What I'm trying to say here, is that I think that your dad wants you to be happy but he doesn't know if this is all something that I'm plotting. If he knew everything he would bloody well know that I didn't even know _boys_ could like other _boys."_ Simon shrugs his shoulders again before adding, "He doesn't know what to think of it. I mean _I_ sure as hell would be heavily concerned if my son was seriously dating and in love with someone who was supposed to be the next 'Bad Guy' character in the story." Simon does air quotes, and I can't help but feel a burn in my throat. _Even the man who is accusing him vaguely of having bad intentions has a good heart in Simon's eyes._

"Take off your bloody clothes and get in this shower and kiss me _right now_ or I'll go feral." I point at the tile in front of me. Simon snorts and covers his nose and mouth with his hand. "Simon!" I snap my fingers and point harder. (I will bite him I swear to Merlin and Morgana, I will) Simon shakes his head and rids himself of his clothes and steps into the shower with me, grinning and pulling my hair into a mohawk (because, yes, I applied shampoo twice). 

"I like ya cut, G" Simon laughs and smooths it into a perfect (as perfect as it can be covered in bubbles) mohawk shape, from what I can see in the mirror hanging in the shower. Simon then gently wacks the back of my head and grins again. His smile is brighter than the sun. I think the sun has lost its job. Simon is the new sun. All he has to do is grin brightly and all of the dead flowers in the world will bloom instantly. He can warm up the days that winter decides to let the clouds show. Wait, rephrase that, when the UK lets the sun show through the clouds. "Hey, Earth to Baz?"

"You are _beautiful,_ Simon Snow." I breathe, watching him turn on the other showerhead so he isn't standing in the humid air alone and has some lukewarm water to bask in. Simon's face flushes a gorgeous red as he flips me off and lathers my shampoo into his hair after wetting it. 

"You prick." He mutters sheepishly. 

"Hey, you never gave me my kiss, so I have the right to pester you." 

Simon huffs softly in annoyance before turning towards me and reaching up on his toes to kiss my cheek, and then bite my throat. I choke on a giggle and shove his head softly. "Bastard, asking for a kiss and then pushing away my other affections." Simon forces his arms around my waist and squeezes me tightly. "Stupidly-fit-footballer-body lookin' headarse. Lookin' all cute with bubbles in your hair." Simon is speaking in a way that makes him sound grumpy, but I know he's just taking the piss. 

"Oh, shut it," I let him wash the shampoo from my hair, "you love me and my footballer body." I grin as he chuckles softly and kisses my forehead gently. 

I think I might be sick with how much I love being domestic with this man. Suck on that, fifth-year Basilton. 

"Your footballer body is the only reason I date you." 

"And I'm fucking pregnant, Simon." I look at his free hand that is steadying me by holding my waist gently and hold it, caressing the freckles that are almost too light to see. Simon snorts softly and wraps his arms around me tightly. "OMG, you're so gay," I drawl, poking his cheek gently. 

"You're such an arse." Simon scoffs softly. 

"Bloody fucking hell," I curse, staring at Dev and Niall causing a ruckus with Simon. (More like Dev and Simon are doing some type of macho-man contest with cups and Niall is egging on Dev.) Simon bounces a little ball off the table, and it smoothly lands in a cup, "Bitch," Dev grunts before grabbing the cup and dramatically drinking from it, putting it on the ground in a neat stack, and then rearranging the cups. Dev then rolls the small ball back to Simon, who sticks his tongue out to the side for a moment before throwing the ball again, landing it in another cup. "What the fuck, Pitch!" 

"I'm _not_ a Pitch yet, numpty looking arse." Simon holds up his middle finger as Dev complains. I silently take a seat next to Niall, and he passes me a wine glass of white wine. 

"What are they doing?" I whisper to Niall, observing as Simon makes yet _another_ cup, and Dev protests before drinking the mysterious liquid from the cup and adding it to the stack. I take note that Simon only has one cup missing. 

"They're playing cup pong, obviously." Niall snickers at my lack of knowledge (about drinking games, apparently) and gestures to Simon before adding, "Seems that Chosen One of yours is an MVP at the game. They would love him at university parties." I raise an eyebrow at him slowly. "What? It radiates BDE. The blokes running the parties eat that shit up." 

"Bold of you to assume he _isn't_ a fratboy. If I didn't know him personally I would write him off as a chav." I shrug. 

"He's a good street rat."

"Simon is _not_ a street rat." I roll my eyes. 

"Fuck!" Dev shouts. I grin as Simon raises his head with a different sort of pride. "You sure you haven't got any magic?" 

"Oi, don't be narky, Dev." Simon snickers softly, looking extremely proud of himself. "This is what I get for being friendly with the Normals and partying." 

I watch Simon and Dev go back and forth before Mordelia walks into the room. She sits next to me with a large sigh. She had recently dyed her hair half neon green, to spite my father behalf probably. "What are you doing in here?" I ask absently, more focused on Simon making shot after shot, only missing when it's the last cup. 

"The twins were bothering me, and the baby won't stop its crying." She drawls, already perfecting the act of acting uninterested. She probably learned from me, and my Pitch antics. 

"Marguerite and Lavender?" I ask softly and motion for Simon to come over when he's done. 

"Yeah, came to see what my brother was doing." I smile softly at her. Mordelia squeals in protest when I pinch her cheek between my thumb and pointer finger. "Basil!!" 

"Tell me about your studies, puff." Niall moves over to wrap his arms around Dev and sway. 

"It's going good. Father got me a new tutor because the other one didn't like how I knew the stuff she was teaching me." I grin cheekily and poke her side, "Cause' you taught me everything! I already knew! She tried to teach me Latin and Romanian, but I already knew! She also wanted to show me Greek, but _duh,_ I know that too! She couldn't be arsed to teach my anything new!" 

"Mords!" I gasp, putting a hand over my mouth, "Don't say _arse_." I whisper the last word at her, and she groans. I laugh softly and sling my arm around her shoulders, "W laghatk alerabia?" I decide on instead. 

"Fi 'ahsan alahwal," She grins proudly at the pronunciation. 

"Well done, puff. That's another thing that tutor couldn't have taught you better than I. Your big brother is a magnificent scholar, Mordelia." She rolls her eyes and wraps her arm around my waist as Simon walks over to the couch I'm seated on and ungracefully plops himself next to me. "You never told me that you could play games like that," I use my free hand to guide his head into my lap and separate dried off chunks of curls into individual curls. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beep veep next chap is the xmas chap uwuw


	4. Xmas? (eve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz do some last minute gift shopping, turns out that babies and toddlers love Simon, apparently Malcolm is actually kind of nice, and maybe Baz does feel kind of accepted by him, but also he really doesn't after an argument at the dining table.
> 
> also, snowbaz debating a mysterious meme that appeared on Baz’s cork board and who has sticky fingers <3

**PITCH**

So, apparently, Simon does like shopping. He's pulling me to shop after shop pointing out gifts and snagging them and proudly paying with his cards (because according to Simon, if you're funny and good at videogames then people send you money) (I said he's daft and they give him money because he's hot) mostly his debit card. He's already gotten two full bags of gifts for people. He's gotten Penny some crystals (what the fuck) and won't tell me what he's getting me (what in the bloody fuck) and lots of other things that I helped him choose for my sisters. (I think I might die). "Oi! Quit trying to sneak a look!" Simon scolds me when I try to look into a bag that he has covered with his discarded scarf. 

"I'm not! I was looking to see if there was anything to drink!" I defend, lying like the amazing actor I am. 

"Basil, your ears twitched," Simon sighs with a smile. 

"Oi, what?" I shake my head with a scoff, "that doesn't mean anything!" I cross my arms over my chest and huff. He's a fool. Of course, my _ears_ don't move. 

"Say that you hate me." Simon has his phone pointed to me. I roll my eyes and huff again. 

"I do hate you, Snow. Every fibre in my body is filled with hatred for you." I begin walking away, and Simon begins giggling. "What the bloody hell are you laughing at?" I squint my eyes in his direction and put on my best sneer. I cant have Simon knowing how soft I am for the way he looks when he's out in the cold for too long. 

“Lookit,” Simon's voice is so bloody soft and happy that I could die (i might). he turns the phone over to me and I watch the video playing on the screen. 

as the words that I had yelled in my temper tantrum exited my mouth my ears began to twitch up and down. “what the bloody hell!” I exclaimed, snatching Simon's iPhone as we walked down the sidewalk. “Gods, the snow is getting all over your screen. I hate the snow.” 

“Wow, so sweet of you.” Simon grabbed his phone back, shoving it in the back pocket of his jeans before stealing my hand and shoving it in his jumper pocket. He gently intertwines our fingers and gets closer. 

I cherish his warmth. 

"I mean the bloody ice falling from the sky, Simon." I drawl, nudging his shoulder with mine. "Are you planning on sending me off to get scones again, so you can duck into a shop and buy more presents? They aren't _all_ for me, really?" I nudge him again as I watch his eyes scan the signs of the shops. "You went into a kid's store a while ago! Surely that was for one of the twins or the baby!" 

"Oh, shove it." Simon shushes me, "It'll be ruining the holiday if you see all the presents. We aren't buying these ones together. These ones are special." Simon juts his chin out, and I simply squeeze his hand. Every year he would send me to Hampshire with Santa presents for the younger ones, myself, Daphne, and even Vera. He would make a snarky comment about 'Mister Grimm doesn't deserve his gifts' and send me away if I asked. 

"You're one of the best X-mas celebrators, you know that?" Simon shushes me with a pinch to the thumb of the hand he's holding. I respond with a tight squeeze. 

"Basil, I swear to Merlin and Morgana if you even _try_ to come into this room again I will hit you to next year!" Simon scoffs and shoves me from my room. _My room._ And shuts the door. I hear Daphne make a comment about me always trying to peek because of my hate for surprises. I do not hate surprises. 

"Simon! You've been in there for ages! I might die out here! Can you hear me, Simon? Oh, it's cold!" I exclaim, letting my head fall on the door. 

_"You're hearing this, Daphne? Such a dramatic little bastard."_

_"He takes after his father."_

_"Gods, I can't see Mister Grimm being anything_ but _stoic."_

Simon knows what stoic means? "Oh, I feel the life leaving me!" I screech, hearing Simon snort. 

"What the hell are you doing, Baz?" Mordelia blinks slowly at me when I make eye contact with her.

"Nothing important," I shrug, "Screeching about the _death_ that is consuming me, because you know _I am dying!!." I_ knock my head against the door a couple of times, "Simon," I whisper, "I am dying out here." 

"You're so, so mentally ill, brother." Mordelia shivers before looking me up and down and shaking her head. "It's a miracle you haven't been sent off to a psych ward yet."

"Oh, piss off! Father is the reason behind my mental illness." I knock my head on the door again, listening to the shuffling footsteps coming closer to the door. "Simon!" 

"Shut up you needy thing," Simon swears at me and shakes his head when I dramatically fall into his chest. He's incredibly warm. I hum in content and wrap my arms around his waist, leaning my head on his shoulder. "Amazing, lunch is almost ready." Simon hums and pets my head. 

"I think you broke my brother, Snow." Mordelia watches as I shove my hands into Simon's pockets to warm them up and sneers mockingly. "He seems a bit too cuddly to be my brother." 

"You see? You're a bloody needy thing." Simon tsks at me and kisses the crown of my head. "He's a grown child, Mords." I scoff with fake offence to the teasing in Simon's voice, uttering a small 'am not' from the place in his chest. "Shush. You took me away from my gift wrapping." 

"Good! Fuck those gifts. I need the most of your attention or else I'll spontaneously combust and die." Simon snickers and sways, holding a conversation with my sister about something having to deal with her school experiences. They converse amongst themselves while I cling to Simon's warmth and sway. 

Sometimes I wonder how he's so warm. It was hell every Christmas. I would have to bundle up under several blankets and only be able to see Simon's sleepy head of curls falling over his eyes from my phone or laptop screen. I would often whine about the cold while Simon would scoff about it being too hot in the flat. We would stare at one another in silence before bringing up a topic of conversation that would be talked about for an hour or so before we both decided to just take turns closing our eyes and breathing steadily and trying to sleep. Anytime Simon had managed to fall asleep he'd jolt awake from a nightmare and feel around the bed before realizing that I was miles away and only visible on a screen that sometimes made us look like little pixels because of how heavy the snow was falling. 

"C'mon, Basil. Daphne says that we should go sit at the table and start serving ourselves." Simon runs a hand through my hair before kissing the crown and pulling away from me to walk downstairs and into the dining area. 

"Or we could steal plates of food and go hide in my room and facetime Bunce and talk shit about the people under the same roof as us." I offer slyly, letting him pull me along the stairs by my hand. 

Simon snickers softly, covering his bright smile with his shoulder when he turns back to look at me. I may get scolded. "Baz, don't be such a baby. The fire will be on, there will be food for us to eat. You and your siblings need to socialize more. 'S not like it's going to hurt you." 

"You never know, Snow. They could be plotting harder than I was at Watford." I smirk at him, earning a poor attempt at a sneer. Simon isn't made for sneering. 

"Baz, your siblings cannot plot like a Pitch if their brother doesn't teach them how to." 

"I suppose you have a point..." I trail off with a pout when I see that the rest of the members of the family have seated themselves at the table. I squeeze Simon's hand and take a seat out of my normal spot (taking Mordelia's seat, so that way I can sit next to Simon) and leaning my head on his shoulder as he starts serving me. I watch as he serves me just enough so that way I'll get filled up and won't leave anything on my plate. He then moves slightly to help the twins out, passing their plates back to them when they approve of the serving of food with loud thanks. He even passes along Mordelia's plate to help her serve something for herself before making sure everybody's plate was filled properly and serving himself. "You're the sweetest person on this Earth," I murmur into his shoulder when he settles in his seat and starts eating with manners that only activate when he's in front of my father. 

"Hush, eat your lunch before I hit you." I grin cheekily and poke at my food, still resting my head on his shoulder. I can feel sets of eyes on me, and I can feel the hot glare of Malcolm Grimm and my two younger sisters. I lift my eyes to meet a nasty glare coming at me from my father, I shoot one straight back. Who does this man think he is? Not even letting me eat without showing off his disapproval with his stupid beady looking eyes. 

"Do it, I dare you." Simon shakes his head at the comment I make before praising Vera and Daphne (who both thank him heavily for his praise) on their cooking skills. 

I hum softly and lift my head from his shoulder. I carefully eat the food in front of me, watching Simon use a knife instead of being a savage and chomping on the meat and seeing what happens. Simon gestures to my food when I take a couple of minutes pauses. 

“Simon, I finished wrapping up your gifts and placed them under the tree in the living room. The ones that you put separate,” Daphne pauses to sip on her iced tea and make eyes at the children and me, “I have left in Basilton’s room on the coffee table. We will be opening presents around midnight after we finish baking the cookies.” Simon gasps softly and nods in agreement. 

“I’m excited to try your cookies, Mrs Grimm! You and Vera always do an amazing job with sweets and such!” Simon’s cheeks are flushed from excitement, and his curls sway around on the top of his head. 

“Not all the cookies are yours!” One of the twins shouts out in protest to Simon’s appetite. 

“Of course not. Santa must have some cookies to fill his tummy for the ride around the world.” Simon grins at the child, who grins brightly and nods fast. 

I then turn my head, leaving a soft, chaste kiss on Simon’s mole on his cheek before continuing my attempt at finishing my food. 

“Basil, why do you and Mister Snow kiss each other as Mum and Dad do?” Simon chastises the child for calling him by his surname, saying to call him by his first. When Simon deflects from the question, and I stuff food in my mouth to avoid it, I can see my father relax some. 

I grind my teeth together slightly, “Well, Simon is my fiancé, Puff.” I say in a soft voice reserved for children and sleepy Simon. I can see the way that my father once again tenses. “Eventually we will end up like Mummy and Daddy and have our own little puffs running around our house,” I add, for spite measures. 

I see the way Simon smiles and blushes profusely, looking down to his water. “Mummy and Daddy? But whos the mum and whos the dad?” 

“Well, in our case, we’re both boys so technically speaking there is no mum. we would both be a daddy.” I smooth the napkin in my lap and look up at the other twin who gasps in shock. 

“I didn’t know you could do that!”

”Me either! Can there be two mums?” 

“Well,” I drink some water, “yes, if there are two girls who love each other enough and want their own puffs.” 

“Basil, I believe this is enough.” I turn my head towards my father, squaring my shoulders and making my eyes hotter than the fire burning in the living room. 

“They’re harmless questions, Father. The twins are simply curious of Simon’s and I’s relations. It isn’t an issue answering their questions. I am their brother after all. I should be a decent enough big brother and answer their questions about the world for them, no?” I fold my napkin over in my lap and clasp my hands together. 

“Well, no-“

”Then they can ask as many questions as they damn well please.” I turn to the twins and smile gently. “Don’t listen to him.” 

“Basilton I do not find this conversation appropriate.” 

“Oh?” I scoff. “What exactly isn’t acceptable about it?” Simon presses his hand to my shoulder. It gets shrugged off. 

“The twins are far too young to even begin to understand your...chosen life-“ 

“You think I chose to be told I was going through a phase my whole life? Yes, I woke up one morning and decided that I would love to live the rest of my bloody life being told by my only support system that I am a disappointment and am poisoning a bloodline.” I nonchalantly look over my nails, feeling Simon squeeze my knee. “It was a very easy choice wanting to feel sadness every waking moment for who I am.” My father stiffens. 

“Now, Basilton. We will not talk like this in front of the children.”

”Have you forgotten about me? Am I not one of your children anymore?” I scoff, letting the anger take over my features. 

“Yes, but-“

”But what? Have you decided that you don’t want me to be your child anymore?”

”Baz, let it go.” Simon murmurs to me. “We can go now.” 

“Back off, Snow.” I scoff, “Let the man speak for himself.”

”Mordelia can you take the twins upstairs, please?” 

“Basil this is a scene you are causing. There is no need for you to make such a big deal about me not wanting my children to be exposed to such things! The Mage and The Chosen One probably exposed you to these things and you have chosen this lifestyle to spite me!” I raise to my feet and calmly point a finger at my father. 

“Listen to me.” I straighten up, “You can bash me all I want. The second you begin to attack the person who has supported me longer than you bloody have is where I draw the line. You have no right. No fucking right.” I feel my throat tighten. “I came here, and I brought Simon because I thought you finally realized that family was more important than your disapproval of two men in a romantic relationship.” I scoff and watch as Simon raises from his seat. 

“Father, I am not staining a bloodline. You permanently stained the Pitches.” I sneer harshly at him, letting Simon rest his hand on my lower back and lead me out of the way of the chair and tucking it in. 

“Let’s go, love,” Simon whispers softly, seeing the way my body shakes. 

“No! I’m not done!” I move to allow Simon to tuck in the chairs. “You have two choices. You accept me for all I am or you don’t. I’m tired of hiding from you. I'm tired.” I choke on the air in my throat and close my eyes. “Okay,” I sneer at the way my voice cracks, “I’m going to get my keys, and then we’re going back home, and then we’re going to come back later tonight because I promised Mordelia and the twins that I would be here this Christmas. I refuse to be a petty bitch and miss it because of my conflicting emotions.” 

Simon nods his head and rubs his knuckle against the highest point of my cheek, “Whatever you want, Baz.” 

“Simon for the love of the gods if you keep dancing that dance from Mean Girls I will wrap my hands round your neck and strangle you. I will murder you.” Simon simply continues staring at the TV, copying the four girls dancing on beat. 

“No! I look amazing!” 

“You do have a very valid point there.” I lean back into the sofa, watching Simon’s wings spread out and flap when he loses his balance. I watch the way that he’s gently lifted off the ground and back onto the tips of his toes. It’s almost graceful. (As graceful as Simon Snow could be.) I sniff softly, wrapping the fleece blanket around my shoulders and humming with content. 

“We get it, Baz, you like being a burrito. No need to purr.” Simon stops his dancing and drinks some tea, still wiggling along to the music.

”I am not purring. People cannot purr.” Simon shrugs at me and makes a face that tells me he begs to differ. “Simon, I am not purring.” 

“I dunno, once Penny and me came across this person and they were purring.” 

“Maybe they were a part cat or something. Was this in America?” I lean further into the sofa, opening the blanket slightly when Simon moves to join me. His wings comfortably wrap around us. 

“Mm, you were asleep ‘n’ I was bloody bored.” Simon focuses on the movie again, resting his head against my chest and letting me trace the back of his neck. “We should go get our nails painted with Pen next time she makes time to go. She said I was in need of a manicure, whatever the hell that is.” 

I grab his hand, examining the scary amount of dead cuticle on his hands. “Yes, definitely.” I show him our hands next to each other and watch his eyes light up. 

“Baz! Yours are so long!!” He exclaims, feeling at the nail bed gently. 

“You wanna see something cool?” I murmur, feeling him nod fast against my shoulder. “Look.” I gently press my finger against his cuticle, watching all the dead skin lift off from the nail. 

“Oh...my god...” Simon stares at the cuticle in awe, confusion very clear on his face. “Does this mean I need a manicure?” He cutely asks. 

“Yes, it means you should’ve gotten one a long time ago.” Simon hits my chest softly and grins. 

"I think it will be fine as long as you both stay civil. We're only going to open our presents and then go home." Simon reasoned, fiddling with my hand that was rested off to the side for him to hold. "We will be coming back in the morning to open Santa presents for the little ones, but surely after breakfast, we can leave. You'll be alright." Simon pokes at one of my nails and hums in agreement with himself. "And Mrs Grimm says that we can take our Santa presents for each other back home to open. I was talking to Pen earlier- well I was textin' her," He runs his thumb along one of the callouses I have from playing the violin, "she says that if you wanna we can spend next year's Christmas together." 

"The three of us?" I ask softly. 

"Yeah, and Shep 'cause he's family too." Simon yawns loudly after the sentence, “That’s weird.”

Simon tends to sleep all he can during the colder months, i’m beginning to think that it’s a dragon thing. First, skin falls off his wings in october, then he starts curling up in bed in a tight ball at my side and clinging to me. 

I guess i should look it up. 

“Christmas with our family sounds nice.” I murmur, reaching over to place the hand he was fiddling with on his cheek. 

“I fucking hate it here.” I huff into Simon’s shoulder. I want to leave and go home and hide in our bed and not let Simon go. 

“Don’t be dramatic, love. Watch the twins.” He whispers softly, making me look up to where my younger siblings are unwrapping presents from simon and me eagerly. Both twins cheer with glee when they open presents that they wanted. New picture books, cars, dolls, art supplies for one, video games for the other. 

I laugh softly at the way one pile is neat and organized while the other is similar to a pile of trash. “Isn’t that funny?” I gesture to the two piles vaguely, and Simon lights up with a smile. 

“It’s us! You are neat and posh, and I’m a menace,” he whispers proudly. 

“Neat is not a posh thing!” I defend. 

“Oh, neat is totally a posh thing.” He gives me a dumb look and raises both eyebrows. “Posh people have like colour coordinated houses, minimal decor,” he shrugs (I want to kill him) and continues, “it’s like, your house is nice and neat, and Penny’s house is full of clutter that tell their story. There’s toys and books and markers. It’s cluttered because they make it a home.” He shrugs and looks back at the children. “As soon as I walk into Pen’s house I know it’s hers. If I walked into here, your room, your siblings room, I would think it was a hotel.” He shrugs again. 

“What? Bullshit. We have pictures and things.” I reason, leaning forward when he pokes my side. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him. 

“Well, yes. Family pictures. There aren’t any photos of you with paint on your face or syrup on your clothes.”

”I never had paint or syrup in places they weren’t supposed to be?” I question. 

“Most children are naturally messy. Messes are one of the things you should expect from most children. Some are more calm.” Simon stretches out his legs before letting one lay out straight and bring the other to hit my knee. (Stupid Simon and his man-spreading.) “There aren’t any singular pictures that show the personality of your family.” 

“I guess it is a posh thing,” I whisper. 

“It’s okay, though. At home your desk is cluttered with things. You’ve got pictures of me and Penny and us three together. You have tickets pinned to the brown thing-“

“My cork board?” 

“Your cork board!” He grins. “You even have that one meme printed out!!” I cover my mouth and snort, turning away from him. 

“You put that there!” I argue quietly, muffling laughter. “I would never put something like that on my board.” 

Simon looks down and whispers, “S-Simon....P-Pretty.” I hit his shoulder and rub my eyes, listening to his quiet giggles. 

“I did not put that there.” I push his shoulder. 

“You totally did!!” He exclaims softly, not wanting to get the attention of the children. “How else could it have possibly gotten there?” 

“By this certain menace with sticky fingers.” I grumble. 

“That was one time!” 

“One time? Simon every time we go to a comic store you take home the whole bloody store.” I scoff. 

“Not true!” 

“Simon, I’m the one shopping with you...” I trail off, raising an eyebrow at him. 

His eyes squint and he reaches out and gently pinches near my eye, “Ouch!” I hiss, rubbing the spot. He looks at his fingers with awe. 

“You had a star! Lookit!” He slowly moves his hand to where I can see it, and there is in fact a star shaped hot pink glitter on his finger tip. 

“Where the hell did that come from?” I look at the star with the same fascination he does as i ponder how the hell glitter got on my face. 

“The Gods...” He murmurs, turning his finger so it catches the light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is SNOW BAZ OPENING THEIR OWN PRESENTS FROM EACH OTHER!!!! 
> 
> college is so hard i think i’m doing to die   
> o(^_-)O
> 
> also, after i finish this fic i’m going to finish my snowbaz ‘If the World Ended?’ fic  
> then my snowbaz ‘Heather?’ fic   
> and third my snowbaz ‘it’s a child!’ fic 
> 
> and if there’s any bnha fans here, finishing my kiribaku/bakushima ‘feint’ fic :0
> 
> also have a rock band/body guard haikyu!! kuroken coming out after all dis AND snowbaz one too


	5. Snow-wood, Blackwood. (Simon's gift opening)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz is a rich boy, so he has access to a lot of things. 
> 
> Simon is thoughtful and has access to said rich boy's credit card. 
> 
> Or, SNOWBAZ, but make it super soft and sweet (gag, angst writer cringe) 
> 
> enjoy!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do research for this chapter OvO (i hope that emoticon doesn't scare u) 
> 
> SNOWBAZ OPENING PRESENTS SNOWBAZ OPENING PRESENTS!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> r u READY for a phat plot twist kiddos? I'm gonna have to change the tags after dis one d(^.^)p 
> 
> Personal update tho; college is so hard??? I'm taking a PHED class cause it gives me hs and college creds but it's all abt mental health n stuff so far, kinda scary tbh.. ALSO, my English teachers have been giving us essays so PRAISE THE LORD bc I actually enjoy writing essays owo.. ALSO, my sister and I (she a doctor of some sort LMFAO) are speculating that my mom has vascular dementia (she has most of the systems and all the like main severe ones) n we are trying to get her to go to a neurologist after covid kicks the bucket... that's relevant because in biology we are researching a topic of our choice and mine is vascular demetia so that way i can research the topic AND write a 1k word essay on it (prob more bc I'm a writerrrr~ i love me some words) 
> 
> if u read this i love u so much and I'm sending u a virtual forehead kiss from 6ft apart.

**PITCH**

I shift my body so I'm sideways on the couch. The children are off playing with their new toys, giving each equal amounts of attention. Simon is grinning slyly and shaking his present. "It won't make any noise, love. I put it in a box that is taped to the box you're shaking." Simon scoffs; offended. He narrows his eyes and gives it one more solid shake. 

"You better not have put more than one thing in here, Baz. We agreed on _one_ present per us... that doesn't make too much sense, does it?" His smile turns sheepish as he giggles at himself. "We agreed to get each other one present."

"You're incredibly smart, Snow. Congratulations." I sigh softly, staring at him blankly. His nose scrunches and he attempts to sneer (he looks constipated). I cover my mouth and nose to snort. 

"Hey! Don't laugh! You called me Snow!!" Simon shoves my shoulder with a giant grin on his face because its Simon and the fool cant _not_ smile at me. "Hey! No fair!" I keep my hand over my mouth as I laugh. I laugh harder when Simon groans in anger and shakes me hard. "Baz!" I choke on the air that's refusing to go inside my lungs. 

"You looked _constipated_!!" I screech at him, grabbing Simon by the shoulders and shaking him like he is me. He gasps and stutters at me before landing a soft hit on my shoulder. 

"Are you trying to _fight me,_ Basil?" He makes his neck jerk with every word and holds his hands up, limp. Yes, Simon Snow and his 'chicken fights'. "In front of my salad, really? You _monster!!_ " 

"I am not fighting you! Simon!" I block my face with my hands as he starts gently whacking me with his limp hands. Where did he see this? I cannot provide said information. "Simon-Fucking-Snow!" He wraps his arms around my shoulders, and then his legs around my waist and clings to me while attempting to shake me (dumbass). 

"Okay, I'm done. I won, though." He stretches his arms before lazily resting them on my shoulders. "You're so pretty, Baz." 

"You lump of coal, go away," I grunt, feeling my ears get hot. "Bring your present to me." I shake my hair out of its bun, tying it back up after Simon gently sets the present on my lap. "After this, I am going to give Vera her gifts and then we can go home and bake for Penny," I hum softly. Simon presses a kiss to my cheek before gasping. "What?" 

"You!" A loud gasp that Daphne turns to raise a brow at me for. I wave her off and raise my brow to Simon. "You called her Penny! You can't say you didn't I heard you!" 

"No, you're hearing things again, Snow." I deny, squinting my eyes defensively as he leans into my space with a wide grin. Too bright. Too soft. 

"You're calling me Snow, too! You're in denial! I bet your ears are twitching, too." Simon grins and puts one hand on the side of my neck to push the hair from near my ear. "'S okay," he whispers cheekily, "I won't tell Pen." He grins and runs a thumb across my cheek softly before sitting with his legs crossed on the sofa. I can feel Daphne's gaze on us. 

"Rock, paper, scissors?" I ask. 

"Rock, paper, scissors," he confirms. 

I end up getting best out of six, and sit back triumphantly, "Open the gift, Snow." He tsks softly and squints his eyes. 

Simon gently feels along the edges where the paper is taped and gently peels it off. Ever since Simon had started being gifted wrapped presents regularly from me, he would gently peel away the paper and then fold it and put it to the side. He acts as if the paper is precious. Maybe, to him, it is. 

"I feel like I'm going to cry. I feel, like, energy." I inhale silently, holding it in for a second to school my features. "Baz, there's so much tape," Simon giggles, "What the hell?" I chuckle silently at the way he excitedly wiggles in his seat while peeling away the tape and removing the smooth, black box from the initial brown box it was inside of. "Baz, you're so scandalous!" I kick him with my foot, hard. 

"Quit being so bloody nasty. Open the damn box." 

Simon tilts the box so the contents slide out, "Ohh, a paper! Just what I wanted." He lifts the paper from the rectangular box. "This is so weird. I feel like I'm buzzing," he mutters. 

"Maybe you're excited." I shrug. 

I hope the thoughts in the back of my mind are the reason he feels as if he's buzzing. I know what's in the box, of course. I know what the paper says, I wrote it. 

Simon's brows scrunch as he focuses on the words. 

_Carefully grown in Australia, matching the outside and being named the same. Warm tones on the outside, but a soft and cool name to contrast to it._

_**Pararchidendron pruinosum.** _

_Snow-wood, a subtropical Australian rainforest tree. Bark red, leaves similar to lace. Flowers the colour of the sun turn into pods of fruit._

_Cultivated in south-eastern Australian land, dark bark. Glossy, leather-like, dark grey-green phyllodes._

**_Acacia melanoxylon._ **

_Blackwood. The timber used to carefully decorate. Sensitive to some things, but strong and sturdy otherwise._

[ ](https://www.1001fonts.com/quigleywiggly-font.html)

Simon blinks once, twice, three times. He gazes up to me before reading it again. "Wood?" he ponders out loud. 

"Wood," I repeat. He places the paper gently in his lap and pokes the foam covering the rest of the gift. He moves his hand away before touching over it again. 

"I can feel it?" Another confused mumble or two. He slowly peels away the foam, giggling at the first thing he sees. "It's a ring," He sings. The ring has both of the woods intertwined together in an elegant spiral. "It's so pretty, Baz. Woah," Simon marvels at it for a second, sliding it from finger to finger. He grins wide when it slides seamlessly onto his ring finger. 

"Get going, there's another thing in there." Simon tilts his head off to the side and lifts the second, firmer, foam piece that the ring was on. 

"Oh my gods, really? Another paper?" He flips the blank paper around and then crumbles it up to throw at me. "Arsehole." 

I stick my tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes before he looks down, freezing in his spot. My face gets hot with anxiety as he gasps quietly. I lean my chin on one of my hands and cover my bottom lip as I gnaw at it. 

"Baz- I- I don't have-" Simon's eyes turn glassy as he gently picks up the glossed wood that's twisted into an elegant end. "I can feel the magic in it, Baz." He whispers softly. "Did you magick it?" A smile breaks out on my own face as I rake a hand through his hair. 

"No. You have magic. It's not magic like mine, but you are magic. Your whole being is magic, Si." I whisper softly. He twists it in his hand before feeling along with the wand. The handle is made of leather, similar to mine. The leather matches the Snow-wood. It's warm-red toned. 

"I'm scared." 

"You don't have to mess with it now," I whisper, "Mess with it at the flat." 

Simon's eyes become saltier, "Okay. I love you." 

"I love you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOEFH;ASLKDFJ so soft..... guess what baz is gonna get in the comments if ya wanna d(//^^//)b 
> 
> DRINK WATER, EAT, WEAR UR MASK, TAKE CARE OF URSELF. 
> 
> leave a kudos if ya wanna, or if u haven't already. 
> 
> ONE MORE CHAPTER GOGOGOGO


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